Starting Fires (In Our Souls)
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Percy, tortured by memories of the war, needs a distraction. He finds the bottle first, then his soulmate. He and Draco begin a no-strings-attached relationship—but that really couldn't last, could it? Warnings for alcoholism and mentioned character death.


**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written—surprise!—for fun. XD **

**Word Count: 2002**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

**WARNINGS: Alcoholism, mentioned character death**

**A million thanks to Jane, Anna, and Bex for beta-ing!**

**Enjoy!**

Percy glanced down at the spoon in his hand. He caught a glimpse of grey eyes before his attention was drawn away from his soulmate.

"Percy." Bill clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right, mate?"

Percy quickly spooned some soup into his mouth and swallowed. "Mmm. Yes. I'm fine."

Bill frowned at him. He glanced around the table to make sure none of the family was listening in, but the Weasley clan was engaged in conversation. He turned back to Percy. "You haven't been fine for a long time, Perce. I wish you'd talk to me."

Percy stood up abruptly. "I have work to do."

He didn't care that it was a flimsy excuse; he needed to be alone, and that was something his siblings had always been happy to do—leave him to himself.

Percy made his way up the stairs, pausing briefly when he passed by the twins' room. George's room, now. Percy bit his lip as the memories washed over him, all of them tinged with longing and regret.

He ran a hand through his curly red hair, his eyes tightly closed. Fred had died six months ago, and though the pain had dulled… there was still such a large part of Percy missing. Sometimes he wondered if he'd arrived at the battle sooner, if he'd been kinder to his brother, where they might have been.

If Fred would have survived.

He knew he couldn't think like that; he also knew that he would anyway, because he took responsibility for every one of his actions, and mistakes were no exception. And he definitely considered failing to save Fred a mistake.

Percy continued on to his room. He shut the door firmly behind himself and walked over to his desk, pushing aside the papers scattered there. He hadn't resigned from his position in the Ministry, per se, but Kingsley Shacklebolt had him doing other, less demanding duties. Percy found that he didn't really mind. It was hard to focus on work; at the same time, it was difficult to know what to do with all the time on his hands except _remember._

And that really wasn't working out for him. He wanted to stop hurting.

He was alone for all of ten minutes before there was a knock on his door. His blue eyes fell shut, knowing who was on the other side.

"I'm okay, Bill."

"You're not. Let me in. Please."

Percy sighed heavily. With a flick of his wand, the door unlocked.

Bill entered, his long hair spilling over his shoulders. He was frowning worriedly at his younger brother as he walked in and sat on Percy's bed. "Percy. Talk to me, please. I feel like you're pulling away."

Percy shrugged as he stood up and gathered some clothes from his closet. He was planning to turn in early. "Everyone's upset. Ron and George especially—and Mum and Dad…"

"Right," Bill said slowly. "I know. I know. But you've been so… so silent lately. I'm worried about you."

Percy slipped his shirt off his freckled shoulders and quickly replaced it with his nightshirt, lest Bill see how tense he was. "Worry about someone else," he said curtly. "I can take care of myself."

"Percy—"

"Why aren't you giving Ginny this speech?" The words were harsher than he meant them. "Or Ron? George? Why me?"

Bill blanched. "Why _not_ you? You're just as important as they are, Percy! Your feelings are just as valid!"

_Since when?_ he wanted to scream. _Are you all afraid I'm going to leave again? Is that why you suddenly care?_

But he couldn't say that.

He gave Bill a cold, hard stare. "I'm aware, thank you." His hands balled into fists. "I'm going to bed. Please leave."

Bill ran his hands through his hair in despair, the charms on his leather bracelets clinking together. "Percy…"

"Please leave."

Defeated, Bill exited the room.

Percy went to bed, but he was left staring at the ceiling for a long time. Eventually, he turned his head and caught a glimpse of pale blond hair in the mirror.

He turned away.

* * *

The next day, Percy thought that maybe, just maybe, he just needed to be numb.

Tom cut him off pretty quickly, but he'd already had enough. The pain was further away than it had been in a long time.

When he slept that night, the regret didn't hound him.

* * *

The days kept on like that—the Hog's Head, the Leaky Cauldron, the Three Broomsticks. Then the Blind Pig became a favorite, along with the Fountain of Fair Fortune and the White Wyvern. He showed up to each randomly, with no rhyme or reason, and had his fill.

He was at home less and less. He wasn't getting work done. But he wasn't remembering.

So he kept going. Deeper and deeper into oblivion he went, and he didn't care one bit.

* * *

One day, everything changed.

"Merlin! Watch where you're going, Weasley."

Percy straightened up unsteadily from where he'd stumbled into another man—no… he remembered that voice. He squinted.

"Malfoy," he muttered. Anger and embarrassment slipped through his alcohol-clouded brain.

Grey eyes narrowed at him. "You don't… you don't look well, Weasley."

"'M… 'm fine." Percy's spine went rod-stiff too quickly, and dizziness flooded him. "I was just leaving."

Draco Malfoy looked almost surprised. "You're not Apparating like that, are you?"

"'M fine," Percy repeated. He pushed his way past Draco and towards the door, grateful that it was late and the harsh sun had long since set. The cool night air bit at his skin, but he felt a hand on his arm before he could get far.

"Weasley, stop. This… you can't Apparate like this."

Percy was breathing heavily. "I can," he said thickly.

"You'll be hurt," Draco insisted. "Merlin, where are your brothers? Normally I can't get rid of them…"

"Why d'you care what happens to me?" Percy hissed. "Let go."

Draco's grip tightened, and his eyes narrowed. "No."

Hands gripped his shoulders, they were spinning, and then Percy knew no more.

* * *

When Percy woke up the next morning, he really, really wished he wasn't conscious. His head felt like it had been attacked by a million bludgers, the early morning light was much too bright… it was awful.

"Good, you're awake. Drink this—it'll help."

Percy didn't even question the person who'd spoken. He squinted his eyes, saw a hand holding out a vial, and downed it quickly. Immediately, his head cleared, and the light was much more bearable.

"Hmm. Thank you," he mumbled, sitting up with some difficulty. He might have been fine if he'd fallen back to sleep, but as it was, the memories came rushing back the moment he saw Draco Malfoy's face.

His eyes widened. "Fuck."

Draco lifted a pale brow. "Charming," he said snidely. "I thought you had more class than the others. I was wrong."

Percy ignored the insult. "I… where am I?"

"My apartment. You weren't in any fit state to Apparate yourself anywhere, and I don't know where your family is."

Percy spotted his glasses on the bedside table and put them on; everything came into focus. He turned back to the Malfoy heir and cleared his throat. "Right, well. Yes. Thank you."

Draco nodded. He pointed towards the other side of the bed, where a tray of food had been left. "Eat that. Don't throw up on my sheets." The younger man stood. "I need to get going now, but—"

Percy frowned at Draco's abrupt stop. "Something wrong?"

Draco didn't respond, so Percy followed his line of sight. When he realized what Draco was looking at, his heart nearly stopped.

Across the room was a large dresser, with a considerably large mirror atop of it. This in itself wasn't strange; it was the reflection that give Percy pause. Everyone knew that the first time you met your soulmate was the first time you'd be able to see their whole reflection. And the only thing Percy saw in that mirror was Draco Malfoy.

But that didn't make sense. He'd met Malfoy before, only to continue seeing fragments of his soulmate's face—

And then Percy realized this was the first time he'd seen Malfoy since he'd come of age.

Now there was another thing Percy wanted to forget.

"I don't do relationships," Draco said quietly.

Percy licked his lips. "Neither do I."

He felt a kinship between them suddenly, because they were both lost, and afraid, and so full of regret.

That morning, Percy discovered that it was so much easier to be lost with Draco than lost in a bottle. Though that habit was difficult to curb, it got better over the months. Draco helped. Neither ever stayed in the other's company long, but… the companionship helped.

It wasn't quite living, not yet, but he wasn't just going through the motions anymore. There was a purpose in his life, and that was everything.

* * *

Percy moaned into Draco's mouth as their lips crashed together. It was heated, passionate, _addictive_—fire burned through Percy's veins, and the pain was so sweet.

Eventually, the two pulled away from each other, panting and flushed. Percy's glasses were askew and the buttons of his shirt were undone; Draco's hair was a complete mess and his robes were wrinkled beyond belief.

They'd been meeting up like this for six months. Percy was working on curbing his drinking habits, Draco was learning to adjust to a less extravagant life—they were both messes, but they _worked_.

Draco's shoulders were heaving. "Water?" he croaked out at last.

Percy removed his hands from the other man's back. "Sure."

Draco shrugged off his robes—they'd been practically pushed off, anyway—and headed into the kitchen. Percy watched him go as he wondered how, exactly, his life had come to this. He and his soulmate were in a no-strings-attached relationship; his former Death Eater soulmate, no less.

He wondered what his family would say if they knew.

A glass of water was placed in front of him. Draco sat back down on the loveseat, his grey eyes narrowed with what Percy wished was worry.

"Percy?"

He couldn't quite remember when they'd begun calling each other by their first names, but he loved the way his name sounded on Draco's tongue. "Yes?"

Draco frowned sharply. "Are you… all right?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Just lost in thought."

Draco ran a hand through Percy's hair, his fingers sliding through the red, sweat-slicked curls easily. "Talk to me," he requested. "We can do that, surely."

Percy bit his lip. Reluctantly, he spoke. "I was just wondering how my family would react if they knew I was here," he confessed. He wasn't really one for keeping secrets; he found it easier to just tell the truth when directly confronted.

It was as though shutters had fallen across Draco's eyes; the walls that had taken Percy so long to scale were back in place. "Being with me, you mean," he replied tonelessly. "A Malfoy. A Death Eater."

Percy furrowed his brow. "That's not how I think of you," he said softly, honestly.

Draco ignored him. "If you don't like it, you don't have to stay. Nobody's _forcing_ you to be a part of this." He crossed his arms haughtily, but Percy could see the vulnerability in his eyes.

He reached out and took Draco's hands in his own. "I promise you—I'm here because I want to be."

Draco stared at him, as though testing the credibility of his words, then ripped his hands away so he could grip Percy's wrists.

"Good," he growled, and their lips were once again locked.

Something had changed with that admission. Something had shifted.

Percy pressed himself closer to the other man, aching with need. This was living, he thought. Or at least, it was the chance to start.

They could do it, he thought wildly as Draco fell on top of him. They could really do it—they could start again, and they wouldn't make those terrible mistakes this time.

There was _hope._


End file.
